


The Corpse Thief

by TheFrailestQuail



Category: The Book Thief - Markus Zusak, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brozawa, Dead Midoriya Inko, Disability, Gen, He knew he had legs, Izuku is in Denial, Midoriya Izuku Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, My First Work in This Fandom, Sensei | All For One is Midoriya Hisashi, This about to get funky, Told from the eyes of death!, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, no beta we die like men, traumatized izuku midoriya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFrailestQuail/pseuds/TheFrailestQuail
Summary: On that day Izuku's life changed for better or for worse.  The day that he lost it all but gained a deposit that will eventually raise him to a power that will be greatly noticed among man.On that day, the colors were dull and more survivors had been made from the face of tragedy.  And I will continue to pay witness to all who try to go beyond me and and play the world's arbiter.Or Death has to watch as this broccoli boi comes, trashes his job, and doesn't even apologize! The nerve of the kid.





	1. Prologue: An Introduction with a Crayon Stash

**Author's Note:**

> Og, this is the first fic i've written so this will be likely painful but maybe not?  
> I hope you enjoy because this idear has stuck with me since I read The Book Thief.
> 
> And so I present thee, The Corpse Thief

**Prologue**

a mountain range of rubble

in which our narrator introduces:

himself -the changes- and the corpse thief

  
As time goes on the world shifts and changes.  Everything does.

 

The colors change.

The people change.

And the “The End”s change.

 

**So imagine this image:**

_Tragedy_

It’s dark and the sky is filled with bloody, grey clouds and puffs of dark rusted smoke. In the foreground buildings have fallen and crumpled to the ground, some vehicles remain but even they are in pieces or at least partly crushed.

**Reminder:**

_Colors define every scene._

Shift focus midway, a figure makes way through the scene, figure covered in colors. Bright yellow and whites shining from the fog,like the sun rising after an eternal night. Cooling the flames of chaos like the calm of the ocean waves, a healing blue. And then there was red.

A red tie to humanity. A red tie to the spilled blood in all corners. Blood is a bringer of life, give it to someone on, metaphorically, death’s edge and they will jolt like lightning. But bleeding out, life is lost. Blood is the same thing that binds you to my hands.

 

"IT'S FINE NOW. WHY? BECAUSE I AM HERE!"

 

That's right. This figure, he’s here as relief, all different meanings of the colors his suit holds. It means that he will bring life to those on the edge and he will save them. The point is that he is the savior. For those he can get to, that is.

By this time I should’ve mentioned who i am. I’m simply the one responsible to bringing human souls to rest. It’s honestly not dirty work like you humans tend to make it out to be. You could even compare it to tucking a child into bed and turning off the table light after you realized that they’ve fallen asleep while you were reading a story to them.

**Obvious thing to note:**

_I’ve tucked in so many children._

There have been so many children that have gone with a blow of their candle lit fire, then a turn of the knob on a kerosene lamp, or a flick of a switch on an electrical light, though it would seem like an outage from a human’s perspective. The times have passed and changed so much.

Compared to the past there are so many warm bodies, though there was plenty of tragedy that happened in the past, this is simply because of natural increase since that’s, of course, a thing. But with more life, near will be more death as well as ways for it to come, and if someone else brings it, there’s plenty more possible reasons why. I would know. I can arrive as early as i want to an appointment to see the events leading up to anyone’s ultimate demise.

 

**So refer back to the aforementioned scene.**

I still have an infinite amount of collecting to do. I am forever thankful for the saving he’s done and all others like him because it allows me a while longer to delay a few endings, but his smile is fake. This is because he knows how much I’m already having to take away, and even of those that are still around, most will not survive. It’s devastating, but it is another red tie because even super humans are part of humanity.

 

**That brings us to the final change:**

_The people._

Humans have never ceased to amaze me with their power and how they’ve managed to abuse it, so imagine they suddenly have more power. Sounds great from another human’s stand point when you only take it at face value, but dive a little deeper.

Humanity never strives far from some form of greed. Power plus more power over many humans, what does it equal? It’s nowhere as neat as a math equation. Everyone has a different playing field, no one is equal to one variable, and those factors change even as time goes on. For someone who craves power they will take advantage of any they can even get to wield.

The catastrophe from before? Perfect example. You may ask what happened for something so tragic to happen? It’s simple, really. Mistreated all his life, a poor man that held a power with the for greatness is turned down. He looks down moseying through life half heartedly till he was tired of living as if the scum under everyone’s toes. So he took what he had and made do with it… differently than before.  Soon he had created the ammunition to change roles with every single person that had walked right over him. But it was terrific for not only the people that it was planned for but also everyone in that were caught in the crossfire.

And yet, the world goes on and there continues to be countless people who are suffering because someone wasn’t satisfied with the hand the world dealt them.

 

**_How about we cut and paste this scene._ **

A few more years in the future and  in a different city? Most things were practically the same except of course the people.

The day had started as ordinary as one could imagine until Midoriya Inko and Midoriya Izuku entered their apartment.  It was peaceful as they walked in from their weekly grocery trip.

Shaded green eyes watched in bliss as the young boy went off to play his daily games with a smile that could have replace the sun.  His mother turned to the kitchen and that was when it had struck. It seemed at first like an earthquake but it was when the youngen made it to his door frame the calamity came in full swing.  Everything went in slow motion from there.

 

**It all had happened in approximately fifty-three seconds.**

 

Explosions sounded from a few miles away, a bang could be heard from somewhere in the building and there was a clang in the kitchen from pots, pans and knives flying off from hooks.

 

_Twelve seconds._

 

A yelp came from the kid as he run to his mother, scared. She look just as frightened but paid little mind to anything but calming and ensuring her child it would be okay.

 

_Twenty-three seconds._

 

The bottom supports of the building started loosing way and screams could be heard in all directions of other occupants of the building.  If you were to look you could see the shift in her eyes, the realization that this is much bigger than originally anticipated.

 

_Thirty-one seconds._

 

And then the complex collapsed like a house of cards.  Through tears made up of fear, the child held eye contact with his mother as they fell, broken by her head slamming on the ex-kitchen surfaces, and with them came the roof above from above. It was what had caught her, and the kitchen utilities that, by chance, had saved her son.

 

_Fifty-three seconds._

 

The son’s legs were crushed on impact from the fall, but nothing like the damage that befell on Inko.  She lies in the field of ruins, her lower torso down is under the wreckage but it might as well be considered part of it.

I lean in near to her soul.  She doesn't wish yet to leave, she wishes to stay by her son alive or dead.  It radiates off her how desperate she is and how much she longs to be back to the living realm to be with him.  Holding her in my arms, it makes me feel slight resentment for what I am bound by duty to do.  

 

The debris settled for hours that day as I left to gather the rest of the souls from the catastrophe.

 

That day was the day was not the only time Inko left Izuku alone.  That day was the day many disputes emerged from the universe to reign on with Izuku and the gifts he was bestowed by it.


	2. Prologue: Purple Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^^^ So this was originally going to be chapter one but it didn't exactly fit because the scene was pretty same :/ Great planning on my part, roight?   
>  Any who, thank you all so much for your support and I hope you continue to enjoy as this question is answered:  
> Who sucks at dialogue?

Weakly, young Izuku pulled himself out from under the vintage fridge and stove that had somehow saved him.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw his... mother. He dragged himself over with the strength that he did not have.  His legs were extra baggage giving no charity to carry him even when desperate for this last push.

The kid must have suddenly reprocessed what had just occurred when he reached the body.  Losing grip of any strength he had, he collapsed, clamored out feeble cries. Cries for his mother.  Cries for her to come back. Cries questioning why she had to leave him. Cries that will never be answered.

Times like these are when I long to say, in many ways, apologies.

Blood caked the debris, but it was relatively a safe sight for young eyes at face value. It was more than a picture on a news story for Izuku.  

 

**This is when I had returned.**

_ An appointment had been made here, recently. _

 

The dust in the areas surrounding had began to be drawn as if to hug the child, some rocks flew his way, but none had pelted him.  They were just drawn forth in his direction, as was a young man of 24. At the tug of not only his shirt and scarf, but the pull of his whole body, his night shift went from  last sweep of casualty counting the bodies that had been left behind to almost being slammed into a kid that looked to be draped over what seemed to be another corpse. Most sections of the city had been searched for survivors already, this one included, this aside showed that the measures taken to do so were quite, objectively, faulted.

What he did not see, however, was the spirit of Midoriya Inko aside Izuku.  She was kneeling at his side wailing alongside him, trying to communicate to her child that she was there.  Trying to tell him that although she had left, she had came back at his call. 

 

_Remember that I had already reaped her soul?_

 

It’s not as rhetorical as it may sound, I could have sworn to have reaped her soul before anyone else’s today.  This is an actual question. Her light had already been blown out. She had been taken away… So why is she here now?

 

**Back to the scene.**

 

The young man, clad head to toe in black, stumbled over to Izuku, still being pulled by the seeming extra force of gravity in the child’s direction.  His eye pulled a one-eighty degree turn changing from black to glowing red with his hair pulling it’s own switch in direction. The dirt that touched his tears, blood or sweat stook and the rest fell, rocks included, and Inko’s spirit flickered from spirit to simple soul. 

 

**The difference between the spirit and soul:**

The soul is someone’s being, the seed that the body holds. It is where you are derived from.  It’s also shaped like a bean. A spirit is a manifestation of the soul that more fully represents what the soul’s person looked like, and in this form, souls cannot be drawn away.

 

As I returned Inko’s soul to its rightful place, the ravenette walked to the green headed child and place his hand on his shoulder.  Izuku turned his head to look up into eyes that had returned to their original state. 

“Hey, kid,” The stranger greeted, “I know this is difficult and you just lost her, but you need medical attention immediately.” He said as he motioned to Izuku’s lower half.

At this point, Izuku could care less about the pain he felt because everything seemed to lose meaning.  At this age a child’s whole word practically revolved around their parents and he just lost all he had. He looked the man in the eyes. 

With a voice drowning in tears he cried out “Mama said not to speak to strangers!  She’s not okay but she was smart so I only do as she says!” 

“How about I introduce myself and you do the same? Do you think your mother would be okay with that?” Izuku nodded, wiping the tears and muck from his face. “Okay, well, I’m the underground hero, Eraserhead.”

Looking down and stifling a small laugh, he replied “I’m Izuku. How’d you get such a funny name?”

“My friend picked it for me, luckily not many people have heard it to laugh at it…  Do you want me to carry you to safety?”

“What about mama?” Izuku asked wistfully, “Are you going to save her too?”  He started to doze back into his previous state. 

Eraserhead picked him up, mindful of his legs.  “She’ll be brought to safety once I get you there.  That’s the one thing I can promise,” When he checked, Izuku’s eyes were closed and his body limp, if it were not for the fact Eraserhead checked his pulse, he could’ve been mistaken for dead.

As he trudged back and I took my leave, the clouds started sprinkling and as the sun rose it looked as if purple rain poured on the site of destruction.

 

_I didn’t see Midoriya Izuku for three months after that day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right!   
> pointing at self: I do!  
> Next *fingers crossed* actual chapter should be out this weekend like originally planned :)))  
> I hope you have a swell day!


	3. The Nurse's Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owo, as promised,,

As puddles grew with the thumps the rain, the days dragged on, and the stockpile of souls in the yard of the dead only snowballed as it would to the end of eternity. The sky was never anything but grey, only the artificial lighting colored the streets of the small Japanese city. I only passed through when needed. I had to run around a hospital, going only to the rooms I had to, and left.  I saw the nameplate, but I knew not to enter.

  
**I don’t enter a room that doesn’t have a soul to be taken.**

_That’s nothing but senseless teasing._

The antiseptic smell of nothingness had filled the room with the repetitive high pitched beeps ran along in the background. As his eyes cracked open dim light flooded in, they were immediately shut. A mask of sorts was held on his face, and fabric wrapped snugly around his body. He pulled the mask off and threw it. Voices could be heard from somewhere but they seemed so far away. Everything went hazy, soon it was blank again.

_This became a cycle._

_Wake up, open eyes, shut eyes, pull off mask, repeat._

For a final time he composed himself and tried again to see just where he was. The room was overbearingly white, plain, it was almost unsettling, even the curtains were white. There was a random grey vase of sorts and some out of place abstract art on the wall that appeared like it was trying to be joyful but the colors are too bland. No one was in the room as well as no mask on his face. It was, however, in his hand, connected to a machine, there were a few more other than it. One was the source of the incessant alarm, which was connected to a finger on his right.

**It was April 1st when the boy woke up.**  
_Izuku had been in a coma for three weeks._

He was awake and groggy and confused, partly from the coma, partly from the amount of painkillers he is hooked up on. Looking to the right there was an open door with doctors and nurses scrambling left and right like a dull rainbow. A little closer than the door, about six feet from Izuku, his vision finally focused on a water bottle, on a drawer set.

  
Izuku tried to get up to grab the bottle, like anyone would who hadn’t been awake to drink anything in weeks, but with his struggle no response came from his lower body. So he did what most people would not do. He thrusts his upper body in the direction of the the bottle.

  
Plomp.

  
His jaw smacked the floor. Izuku peers up at his objective that was 4 feet higher than where he half hung, half layed. The boy turns his head back in the few degrees he could manage, he appeared to be slightly frustrated, with his left foot caught on the bed railing.

  
“My word, out of all my days working here, that is certainly something I never expected to see!” a disembodied voice echoes with laughter. “You okay kid? That was quite a fall you took.” In the corner of his eye he sees the speaker who wasn’t even attempting to hide his amusement.

  
Izuku tilts his head to the side like a bewildered pup.

  
“I’m Nurse Watanabe. Would you like a hand getting back on the bed? I’ll hand you the water afterwards, I promise.”

  
Izuku nods, pushing up off the ground with intent to let the nurse pull him the rest of the way. That decision results in a tad more pitiful face-plant because his foot was still higher than his torso, giving him zero support. Watanabe walks over, picked him up and placed him on the bed.

  
Now that he had a better view, the man was quite tall, in scrubs like the workers in the hall, but blue with red details, and he also had a golden bun of locks on his head. His face seemed like it had been molded into smile from birth, a complete contrast to his infinitely deep under eyes.

  
“Izuku Midoriya is it?” He asks to which Izuku nods but is unseen by the nurse who is quickly turning off the machine connected to the mask. “Got a voice in you?”

  
“Y-yes, sir” his voice comes out slurred and hoarse. The nurse hands him the water bottle which is empty less than a minute later.

  
“And you’re aware you’re in a hospital?

  
“Yes, Sir.”

  
“Do you remember why or how you got here?”

  
“No, Sir.”

  
“One more question. Have felt any discomfort or noticed anything wrong at all, since you woke up? I can kinda assume you have judging by your little… tumble there, but I have to have your words or I’m ‘not doing my job’ or whatever.”

  
“I can’t… feel my legs, and I’m kinda sleepy.”

  
His smile prove to be not be permanent, it morphed into a pitting expression. “... Izuku, have you seen your lower body? Have you really looked” And so, as if on command, the child switched his gaze down to his leg.

  
“I’m going to be blunt. Your right leg was unrepairable on the inside even though it had no gashes on the outside, there was risk of internal bleeding and your bones were in splinters. There’s nerve damage in your left leg, for now you won’t be able to use it Once the bone is fully healed you’ll be able to do physical therapy to walk again, once you have a prosthetic for you right that is. You’re quite a lucky one, if you weren’t found when you were, you more than likely would not have made it.”

  
“No…” His thoughts were racing a mile a minute as tears began to make way.

  
“ _How..._ ” did he get such a major injury?

  
“ _Why..._ ” did he not remember any of it?

  
" _What..._ " had happened?

  
And the last he could muster, in the smallest but most voice he could muster,

  
“ _Where is my mother?_ ”

  
**_Everything faded to black in his world._**

**On April 1st the universe played the cruelest joke it could conjure on Izuku Midoriya.**

 

* * *

  
In one of my final pass throughs of the day, three men were outside his door, speaking in harsh whispers.

Izuku doesn’t remember going back in, but he is startled out of unconsciousness by a light knock at the door. His eyes hurt and his checks are covered in dried tears. Two people enter the room, a detective and a familiar man dressed for a casual funeral. The nurse from before doesn’t enter, only letting them in.

  
The funeral ready one approaches the bed, followed by the detective.

  
“Hey, Kid, are you feeling any better?” Izuku tilts his head, squints and questioning.

  
“Hi… do I know you?”

  
“I’m Aizawa, or Eraserhead, the underground hero, as I introduced myself as before.”

  
“Are you the one who saved me?” Aizawa nodded.

  
“I’m Detective Naomasa, assigned to your case. What do you remember?”

  
“I can’t remember anything. I only woke up, my leg wasn’t there, and I can’t move my right leg. Both are due to injuries i can’t even remember.” He pulls his left leg up, using his arms to keep him balanced in the upright position, so that if he had two they would be crossed.

  
One of his questions from before resurfaces. A tremulous yell of “DO YOU KNOW WHERE MY MOM IS?” echoes through and out the room.

  
The two men share a glance and the detective signals.

  
“Izuku-kun,” Aizawa says as he places his hand on the child’s arm in an attempt to comfort him, “I was the one who found you, hours after the attack, you were laying on your mother.” The child’s eyes were already far past watering but he continued, likely thinking it best to rip off the band-aid all at once.

  
“Considering where you were as well as your injuries, you probably crawled to her from somewhere else. If it were not for your quirk, I probably would not have found you when I did.”

  
“I don’t have a quirk…”

  
“I beg to differ. You created a whole another gravitational force.” Despite how dead internally he sounds, and is, this is a kid and he just gave him some heavy news, so he tries to lighten the mood. “You’re a moon child.”

  
“I don’t have a quirk!” he almost yells, “I had my feet x-rayed, I have a joint! I don’t have a quirk!”

If any of the emergency staff that had taken care of him that night were there, they could have told what was on _his_ x-rays.

“Kid, I had to erase the quirk to get closed to you and avoid being pelted by rocks. What else do you suppose it was?”

  
“Mama’s quirk is pull,” his voice is so wobbly, “She can pull small objects to her.”

  
“Your mother was long gone by then, unless you’re saying she used it from the grave.”

  
“You said I was with my mom when you found me! She used it to get help! She’s smart! She got help to come!”

  
“You were on her body, Izuku-kun, your mother is dead and was dead when you both were found.”

  
All that could be heard after was the shuffling of Izuku pulling the bed sheets over his head and the sounds of the machines in the room. How else do you even respond after being told something like that. A moment later the door opened and Nurse Watanabe rushed in and dragged the two out of the room.

From the view I had while walking through the halls,

Eraserhead and the detective got more than an earful one would expect a nurse to say.

A few minutes later Watanabe returned holding a laptop.

  
“I know you probably don’t want to see anyone, but i was wondering if you wanted to watch cartoons or cat videos on my work laptop to cheer up?” The kid pulled the covers off and nodded. “Any suggestions?” He shakes his head. He clicks onto a YouTube playlist called ‘ฅ(^≗ω≗^) Kitteees’ and let it play.

  
“I hate to have to say this, but tomorrow the detective and Aizawa will have to come back for custody discussions about where you’ll go when you check out of the hospital.

They said that they were without a way to contact your father.”

  
“I don’t want to go to him. He’s not my dad.”

  
“I’ll tell them that, but Aizawa meant to ask if you wanted to stay with his adoptive parents. He says they still adopt kids when they’re in need, or at the very least, foster them.” Izuku ponders dolefully.

  
“Are they nicer than he was?”

  
“He’s not like that all the time more than likely, he probably just got a little impatient is all. Sometimes people get worked up and say things harsher than they mean to or things they don’t really mean.” Izuku nods, “On the topic of if they’re nice, I don’t know them to say, but if you want, I can ask him to bring them tomorrow so y’all could meet. Would you like that?”

  
“Yes, Sir.”

  
The nurse left the room and comes back a few minute later and Izuku pauses the video.

  
“Izuku, this is the last thing before I leave, Naomasa also brought you this.” He places medium sized vase on the overbed table along with a bowl of fruit. “This is your mother’s urn. Her body was not in the best of shape, so instead of having a closed casket and then have to worry about leaving her and having to worry about moving away from her, you can keep her with you at all times.”

  
Izuku starred at the container not knowing what to do, it was daunting. This was confirmation of what he was previously attempting to deny. He had just essentially been given his mother’s corpse.

For not the first time since he awoke,  
his eyes had practically turned from green to blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


	4. April's Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa goes out that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forth month, forth chapter,  
> Originally this was a part of the next chapter, which'll be a long one, but I thought it'd be nice to go ahead and put something out, supposed to be out on April 1st but time zones :/  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> oh! Also, "Italicized quotes" are English.

 

The night of April first, the perfect time for the debut of the Jesters and the Fools.  

 

Rats scouring the alleyway scatter, making way for each impression of a step I take.  There is no splattering of puddles or tats of steps to scared them, it’s just the mock in my presence is something animals are not fond of.  Their instinct is kept for those willing to live. Right?

 

My destination is the building around the corner and to the left.  The exterior is made up of sludge and molded over brick and the inside is decorated by delicately placed glass shards and rotting wood. Two lofts span the opposite sides of the building walls, end to end, and pipes run back and forth with weaving wires, crossing the ceiling in all directions.  

 

Here is where I wait, and here will be the future hearth of those with the intent to damn those with heroic natures.  Villains and heroes are of the few people I care to pay much attention to these days. They have the interesting stories, and it is their motivations make or break may job, either worsening it ten-fold or lighten it’s load.

 

  Loft rails creak and strain under my gramless form as if my weight were too much to bear.  Outside, the fire escape groans in desperation as thuds shake it up and down with steps much more jarring than those belonging to a prance.  

 

Windows behind me shatter as a worn body, dressed in an excuse of a red jester’s and a smile painted over it’s cringed frown, rolls through.  It comically gets hooked by the railing, invading my more than literal personal space. The person should shiver with fear for rudely invading my personal space, but he doesn’t.  Rather he crumples. His soul falls into my grasp, and his body, with my seat, down like a sack of coal to the ground level.

 

More crashes sound from the opposing loft, following are two more jesters coming into view, one with a hunched and twisted spine, and one standing tall with arms that exaggerate the posture.  Both are outfitted in purple, green and grey with porcelain masks covering their otherwise exposed faces. These two howl maniacally at the corpse bellow as if it was comedy. On the other side of the broken glass behind me, new figure lingers outside, hiding in the darkness of the night.

 

The laughter never stops, not fully at least.   The jesters cackle to each other in foreign accents, _"Cloaked in darkness, thy illness must beest overhead.”_

 _“Shrouded in clouds? Doth thee fear heaven?”_ The smaller figure sags back, shoulder blades touching the wall with feet two feet away.

One screeches _“The sky hath no solid,”_ running to the ledge

 _“feel thy babe of Gaea for sureness thou may seek.”_ A reach for the ground below.

 _“Hooks hung by the puppeteer,"_ her posture resets and her arms draw to the ceiling.

_“and her feats,”_

_“gouge for fear of thy flesh.”_  Her arms fly down with force and steadies waist level.  The corpse stands, slumped, with seemingly invisible lines strung.

 _“Bladed by your gore, the finest to arm."_ Her partner pushes up, dashes to the edge, and places their hands on the railing left of her and starts squealing like an excited child waiting for a show to begin at a carnival.  

 _“Make way! Make wake!  Your challenger looms near!”_ they exclaim, looking to the wall missed by the moon’s glow.

 

Glass crunches under the underground hero feet, he pulls through the window and out of the shadows, equipped with his capture weapon and goggles.  

“What kind of scum do you have to be to laugh at the death of a person you worked with?”  He rebuked, “Even a villain usually has at least some grief for their comrades.”

“Villains!” Twisted shouts in mock offense  _“He calls us villains!”_

_“You beg to ponder villainous deeds?”_

_“My!  Our Lord!  Call us to thee throne!”_

_“Our only will is for our great!  Let the fool be for your entertainment!”_  They wave closed hands, motioning down.

“I guess that means you really do not care about him.” The hero concludes.

 Eraserhead jumps off the platform onto the corpse’s level.  Judging by the facial structures covered in paint, this was a mid-thirties to early-forties male.

 

I know them as Bran Collins,

a Welsh professor that had been visiting for a possible job offer.

 

Eraserhead near immediately has his feet swept from under him before he can even touch the ground, he catches himself on his wrists as he falls back.  His legs wrap around his aggressor's legs and he twists them so that Collins should fall and kiss the floor. But only his knees bend and hit the ground, his arms keep him afloat like they’re helium balloons.  Red lights up from behind the yellow bars on Eraserhead’s goggles, yet, the puppeted corpse does not fall. The hero swiftly tilts his head up to the jesters knowingly. He’s satisfied when the corpse falls, defeated.  The jesters look on, spacing for a moment, till they look to one another and bow to Eraser who is running up the stairs.

 _“Let us delay, for more befitting an exchange.”_  They both back up to the windows as Eraserhead rushes forth, thrusting his capture weapons towards the two.

 _“Worthiness thee holds is too great for comparison.  In the next sight gain for equality.”_  The slouched one lunges forward, revealing pair of scissors in hand, and slashes at the scarf like weapon, leaving it in tatters.  

 _“Our honor shall bear the touch of growth, but be this granted to you.”_  The taller one slides through the window they originally came in through, leaving a hand out for her partner.

 _“We bid thee well.”_  They run up to the window, the hero a few steps behind and attempting to apprehend them, hissing when he finds his arms had been bloodied from the assault, thus making him unable to act much without risking a worse injury. Meaning it would not be wise to crawl through a high up window with broken spikes of glass surrounding it.

 _“Farewell, my liege.”_  And they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp! I really wanted to write villains that spoke in Shakespearean English so this is fun. Hard to read? Hard to bear? Probably. But fun none the less!  
> If you have any feedback and tips I'd love to hear it in the comments! Teach me the way dear superior entities!  
> m(_ _)m


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